Love, Actually
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: A collection of het drabbles. 1-TomMinerva, 2-SeverusNarcissa, 3-HermioneNeville, 4&22-Jily, 5-ArthurMolly, 6-ZachariasSusan, 7-DeanLavender, 8-PetuniaRegulus, 9-ArthurMolly, 10-BillFleur, 11-BlaiseGinny, 12-Scorily, 13-FredAngelina, 14-RonLavender, 15-DeanPansy, 16-HermionePercy, 17&23-NevilleDaphne, 18-Hinny, 19-Romione, 20-BlaiseDaphne, 21-MaryBenjy, 24-JohnAmelia,
1. step into my parlour (TomMinerva)

Written for Hogwarts' Writing Club - Showtime: Aaron Burr, Sir: (dialogue) "Talk less, smile more.", the Comic Book Day Event: (character) Tom Riddle Jr, (character) Minerva McGonagall, the Love in Motion Event - TomMinerva and the Roald Dahl Day Event: One tonne soup room - Write about someone who needs comforting.

 _Word count:_ 459

* * *

 **step into my parlor**

She's a tiny slip of a thing when Tom finds her—a first year Gryffindor, sniffling as she struggles to hold back her tears in a shadowed corner of the Library, black hair curling to her shoulders.

She'll be pretty in a few years, he thinks, but right now she's just pitiful. Tom feels his lips curl into a sneer, and he curbs that urge and twist it into a kind smile he's copied over the years.

She has a hint of something interesting about her, though—and there's already talk of her being Dumbledore's favorite student. How great would it be, if Tom managed to steal her from him right under his nose?

"Hello, there," he says, keeping his voice soft. He makes sure that the first thing the girl sees when she raises her head, rapidly wiping her eyes, is the Prefect badge pinned to her chest. Slytherin or not, everyone respects that badge—which is why he had accepted it, despite the duties it came with.

"What's your name?" he asks. "I'm Tom."

"Minerva," the girl replies, and there is a quiet determination in her eyes that makes something burn in Tom's chest— _yes_ , he thinks, _he made the right choice here_.

"Well, Minerva, can you tell me what's the problem?"

She's smart, this little girl—she keeps eyeing Tom with suspicion, even if he never her gave her reason to. In anyone else, it would frustrate him, but in her? In this price he's trying to steal from Dumbledore? It's thrilling.

"I… The other girls don't like me," she pouts.

"It'll pass," Tom says. "You know, the other boys in my House didn't like me much either, at first." He doesn't know what possessed him to say that, but he couldn't help it.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Tom replies, forcing him to hold back the eyeroll he feels straining at his eyes. "But do you want to know my secret?"

Minerva looks up at him, ensnared. "Yes, please."

"Talk less, smile more."

"Talk less, _smile more_?" Minerva repeats, frowning doubtfully.

"Yes," Tom nods, letting his lips curl up in a triumphant smile. "It'll work, you'll see—just give it a try."

Minerva still doesn't look convinced, and Tom softens his smile in the way he knows make him looks irresistible. "Hey," he says, "you can trust me, alright? I wouldn't lie to you—see?" he adds, pointing at his badge. "I'm a Prefect—that means you can definitely trust me."

Minerva bites her lips, but she nods. "Thanks for the advice," she says, still a little shy.

Tom smiles back, victory coursing through his veins. She doesn't trust him completely, he can tell, but she's starting to.

Soon, she _will_ trust him—and _that_ is when the real fun will begin.


	2. poison on your lips (SeverusNarcissa)

Written for Hogwarts' Writing Club - Showtime: Ten Duel Commandments: (genre) Hurt/Comfort, Comic Book Day Event - (character) Narcissa Malfoy, the Love in Motion Event: NarcissaSeverus, and the Roald Dahl Day Event - Powder room - Write about Narcissa Malfoy.

 _Word count:_ 378

* * *

 **poison on your lips**

"I'm sorry about Lucius."

Narcissa's lips quirked up in a humorless smile, and she sighed. "Lucius got what was coming for him," she replies, not raising her head and still staring at her hands. "It was always going to end this way."

It had always been going to end like this, with her husband in Azkaban for following a man who'd once had ideals beside destroying the world, and her left behind with only a son whose anger made his blood boil for company.

She shrugged, heaving another long sigh, before finally looking up. Severus' face was impassive, and his eyes—his dark, fathomless eyes—looked like liquid twilight.

"He was still your husband," Severus stated, and Narcissa hated the way those words made her heart twist in her chest.

"And I loved him," she said, wistful smile playing on her lips. Taken by a sudden fit of bravery, she shifted in her seat—the large, white sofa she and Lucius had curled on so many times before.

It felt empty, now, with no one by her side.

Maybe that was why she asked Severus to sit beside her—or maybe she just wanted some warmth to come back to her, something to warm her frozen bones.

"I shouldn't," Severus replied, as solemn as he ever was, but he sat down anyway.

Narcissa eased against him minutely, sighing in relief when she felt him unwind a little, his body, if not quite pliant against her, at least willing to accommodate for her own body against his.

"Lucius isn't here," she breathed, tilting her head toward his. She hated that—hated that her husband wasn't there, and that someone else was. But it was Severus, and she knew him too well to ever hate _him_.

Severus blinked once, long eyelashes framing eyes so different from the only ones she had allowed herself to get lost into, before this. "He's not," he agreed, leaning forward.

His breath against her lips tickled, something warm and forbidden unfurling in her chest.

Her eyes fluttered. "We shouldn't," she whispered against his lips, but she didn't move back.

"No, we shouldn't," he confirmed, but he, too, didn't move back.

And if they couldn't move back… Well, that only left them one way to go: forward.


	3. Quills (HermioneNeville)

Written for Hogwarts' Writing Club - Showtime - Hurricane: (object) Quill, Comic Book Day Event: A Day in the Office (Or any other workplace), Love in Motion Event - NevilleHermione and the Roald Dahl Day Event: Haystacks - Write about someone trying to find something.

 _Word count:_ 392

* * *

 **Quills**

"Neville, have you seen my quill?"

"Which one?" Neville asked, raising his head from his Herbology book and sending Hermione a pointed look as he gestured to their desk, where Neville could at first glance count at least a dozen quill.

Hermione, frazzled, rolled her eyes. "You know the one," she said, lifting stacks of books and rolls of parchment hastily. "The Griffin one your grandmother gave me last year."

"Then no, I haven't seen it," Neville sighed but closed his book to help her search. "I still don't get why you can't just use any of your other quills. Surely one in your collection would suit your purpose."

Hermione scowled. "Yes, one fits, and it's the one I'm trying to find. Now, Neville, are you sure you didn't see it anywhere?"

Nevilled huffed out an exasperated laugh. "Yes, Hermione, I'm sure. I don't know where your quill is—are you sure that you didn't just leave it at your office?"

"I don't bring that one to the office," she answered absentmindedly, bending down so she could check under the table.

Sh let out a shout of triumph, and rose back up, red and gold Griffin quill carefully held between her index and middle fingers.

"I found it!"

"Congratulations," Neville replied, huffing out a laugh. "Now, go, I need to prepare my next class, and you need to keep trying to bring our world into the twenty-first century."

Hermione grimaced sheepishly. "I didn't bother you too much, did I?"

"No, it's fine," Neville replied, smiling at her softly. He longed to reach out for her, but if they started something now, they wouldn't get anything else done today. "See?" he said, pointing at his book, where his own quill jutted out at the top. "I marked my page."

"Smart," Hermione quipped, smiling.

"Common sense, mostly," Neville corrected her. "But thanks. Now go write your letters," he smiled.

There was, after all, only one reason Hermione would need that Griffin quill, and that was to write Howlers to those she called the 'incompetents idiots who I haven't managed to fire yet'.

The Ministry had learned to fear their Minister's Howlers, and Neville couldn't be prouder of her—or more in love.

"Love you," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes at him pointedly as she walked to her own desk.

"Love you, too," Neville said, beaming.


	4. the easiest thing (Jily)

Written for Hogwarts' Jilytober Event: Canon moment: The moment Lily realized she no longer hated James and the Around the World Event: Jamaica - Character: James Potter.

 _Word count:_ 488

* * *

 **the easiest thing**

It hits her out of nowhere, liking James. It feels like she's lost her footing on a precarious ledge she hadn't even known she had been walking on, like she's slipped underwater and now, she is drowning.

Years Potter's spent chasing after her, and the one time she actually finds that she likes him, he's not even aware that she's there—if that's not ironic, Lily doesn't know what is.

It still surprises her now, weeks after the fact, that Potter actually makes a good Head Boy. She wouldn't have thought he'd enjoy the responsibility, not after all the years he's spent breaking rules, but he takes to them so easily that Lily is a bit jealous, to be entirely honest.

Potter's changed, is the thing. He's matured out of his childish, bullying ways (at least, mostly), and as his behavior improves, it becomes harder and harder for Lily not to notice how handsome he is.

It used to be the easiest thing, to hate James Potter—he used to bully her best friend, and yes, Sev gave back as much as he took, but four against one had never been fair. But now, Severus is lost to her—lost to choices Lily can't ever hope to understand—and Potter is there, turning out to be not so terrible, after all. And just like that, hating him is no longer an option.

Perhaps liking him was inevitable then, a fate Lily couldn't outrun. Perhaps she really did just need a small push, at the right moment, to finally clear her eyes off the smokescreen of the children they used to be and see the man James is becoming.

And that's a man who smiles at a lost Hufflepuff first year, a pile of books that has to be killing her balanced precariously in her arms, and offers to help her without a second thought.

A man whose mischievous grin makes Lily's stomach flip as he takes out his wand and says to the girl, "Here, let me teach you a trick I learned in _my_ first year," and teaches her about the lightweight charm, cheering her on as she tries the spell right before him.

He tells her not to give up when the spell fails, and his glee when the girl gets it—and it's not perfect, and it probably won't work long or on her entire pile of books yet, but it's _start_ —is so genuine that Lily loses her breath.

 _Oh_ , she thinks, watching James Potter ruffle a little girl's hair with a smile so proud it could outshine the sun as the last remnants of the hatred she had been clinging on to finally melt away into soft warmth, _so that's what this is._

* * *

The next time Potter asks her out, she says yes, and the look of stunned disbelief that slowly morphs into hesitant awe is worth Black's cackles a hundred times over.

No, _a thousand_.


	5. Age Is Just A Number (ArthurMolly)

Written for Hogwarts' Astronomy Assignment: Mercury - Write about someone getting wrinkles and the Character Showcase Event: Molly Weasley - Slice of Life.

 _Word count:_ 530

* * *

 **Age Is Just A Number**

Sighing, Molly studies her face in the mirror.

The mirror sighs back. "What is it today, my dear? Your lips are too plump? Your cheeks too fat? Your eyes too tired?" The swirl of light that marks the spelled personality of their mirror—a mistake of a purchase if there ever was one—strengthens a little, until Molly can make out a semblance of a face.

"You know what I'd give to have a body like yours? Any body?" the mirror continues to complain, voice rising in offense. "I would do-"

" _Silencio_!" Molly says, jabbing her wand sharply at the mirror, and breathing out a sigh of profound relief as silence falls over the bathroom.

The translucent face sputters vividly, and not for the first time, Molly wonders if they _really_ need a mirror. Or at the very least, surely there's a way to get rid of the enchantment on this one. Family heirloom or not, it is a pain in the ass, and a wonder Molly hasn't shattered it yet.

Well, not _permanently_ at least.

"Everything okay in there?" asks Arthur, peeking inside the room.

Huffing out a fond laugh, Molly smiles. "Everything's fine. I just…"

"I see," Arthur nods, eyes sparkling with laughter. "Had another fight with the mirror, didn't you?"

"It wasn't a fight," Molly says, crossing her arms and turning around, now fully facing her husband. "Just a… slight disagreement."

"I'm surprised to see the mirror still standing, then," he teases, and Molly does her best to scowl at him.

She's not very successful, as her lips keep twitching up in a smile, but then again, she never is, when it comes to Arthur.

"I thought silencing it would be faster," she confesses.

Chuckling, Arthur finally steps into the bathroom, coming to stand beside Molly. "What happened this time?"

Sighing once again, Molly turns back to the mirror, staring at her reflection. It's obvious, to her, what the problem is, and no, for once it has nothing to do with how plump her lips are, or how fat are cheeks appear. In fact, she's mostly gotten over these—it's just that sometimes, in the early morning, it's hard to find herself beautiful.

"I'm getting old," she says, eyes riveted to the small lines she can see around the corner of her eyes, and around her lips. How long have they been there already? And how did she miss them?

Arthur frowns. "You're not getting _old_ , Molly."

"Really?" Molly asks, arching an eyebrow at him doubtfully. "Because these," she says, pointing at her wrinkles, "say otherwise."

Arthur rolls his eyes, lacing his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "All I can see," he says, pressing a light kiss against her neck, "is you growing more beautiful with every passing day. Wrinkles, or no wrinkles."

In the mirror, Molly sees him smile cheekily. "Besides, I found my first white hair a week ago, so if anyone here is getting old, it's definitely me."

And she doesn't know why, but these words make her feel infinitely better.

"Thanks," she whispers, throat tight.

"Anytime," Arthur whispers back, breath tickling against her neck. "Anytime."


	6. Midnight Walk (ZachariasSusan)

Written for Hogwarts' Around the World Event: Azerbaijan - Dialogue: "Are you flirting with me?" / "You wish.", the Love in Motion Event: Susan/Zacharias and the Writing Club - Restriction of the Month: Write about something that occurs only at night.

 _Word count:_ 444

* * *

 **Midnight Walk**

"Just so you know, just because you're helping us this year doesn't make you any less of an ass."

"Duly noted, Bones," Zacharias replied in a drawl. "Always so nice to know what you truly think of me."

Susan rolled her eyes. Honestly, if this was the kind of bullshit her aunt had had to deal with when she had worked at the DMLE, it was a wonder she hadn't resigned before… Before she had been...

The thought brought a now familiar pang to her heart as well as a burning feeling in her eyes that Susan hastened to blink away, refocusing on the task at end—her aunt had died over a year ago, they were at war—she shouldn't let herself still be affected by it.

"Don't be a fool, Smith. We all know you're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart. Now come on, hurry up—we don't want to get caught by the Carrows out of beds after curfew."

"We could always say we sneaked out for a romantic tryst," Zachariah suggested, face carefully blank. There was something in his eyes though, that she couldn't quite identify.

Susan snorted. "Right, sure. Like anyone would believe that."

She faltered when Zacharias didn't reply. "Wait," she said, dumbstruck at the realization she felt like she was having. "All this time you were antagonizing me and being a jerk… Were you flirting with me?"

"You wish," Zacharias replied. His answer sounded so natural that for a moment Susan's swooped in relief—and something sour that she didn't care to name—before she realized that his pale cheeks had pinked and that he refused to look her in the eye.

"Sweet Circe, you _were_." She gasped.

They were almost all the way back to the Hufflepuff Common Room now, and the warm torches signaling the way cast a warm glow around Zacharias' pale blond hair.

"Not _all_ the time," he retorted. His lips twisted into a wry smile. "I mean, sometimes I _was_ a jerk."

It made Susan snort in amusement. "You really were." And then, compelled by some unseen force that also made her stomach flutter, she added, "But you've gotten a lot better lately. More likable." She wanted to swallow back those last words as soon as they crossed her lips, but something held her back.

They were true, for one.

And for two, something that looked a whole lot like hope had crossed Zacharias' blue eyes, causing the pale orbs to almost glow. It made Susan's heart skip a beat.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, but Susan's heart wouldn't stop pounding, and her cheeks wouldn't stop burning.


	7. Pencil and Camera (DeanLavender)

Written for Hogwarts' Around the World Event: Palau - Item: Photograph, the Love in Motion Event: DeanLavender.

 _Word count:_ 416

* * *

 **Pencil and Camera**

"Have you ever thought about taking up photography?"

"Not really, no," Dean replied to Lavender absently.

He had looked up from his work, so startled by Lavender's voice that his pencil had jerked to the left, leaving an ugly, jagged line where there should have been a smooth curve. He sighed and traded his pen for an eraser. With luck, that drawing was still salvageable.

Lavender was posing for him — her legs crossed and her back arched away from him. Despite himself, his lips quirked up in a smile. He had gotten that right in his drawing, at least.

She was holding a photograph now though, looking at it fondly.

"And what's that?" he asked, realizing that she hadn't had it when he had started drawing her.

"A photograph," Lavender replied, lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Of me," she added with a laugh when Dean rolled her eyes at her. "Colin gave it to me earlier."

She handed the picture to him and Dean immediately scowled at it as he saw what Colin had thought he needed to photography.

It was the scene Dean was trying to draw, immortalized in black and white on glossy paper.

"So, think you can do better?" Lavender asked. Her smile, bright and teasing, made Dean's heart skip a beat.

Dean nodded. "Of course."

He stared at the picture, analyzing it. Colin was good, he had to admit it — even if the picture was Muggle and as such didn't move, Colin had still somehow managed to capture the movement in Lavender's limbs, which was the part in his drawings that had always given Dean the most trouble.

But it wasn't as good as a good drawing could be. Maybe he was biased, or maybe it was true, but to his eyes the photograph lacked something.

Soul, maybe. Or substance.

It lacked the spark Dean tried so hard to put into his own drawings, that thing so typical of his subjects that when you saw it, you could only think 'oh yes, of course this is what he drew!'.

The Lavender in the photograph was pretty and happy, caught mid-smile, but she wasn't the true Lavender, wasn't the Lavender Dean loved.

The soul didn't shine through a photograph the way Dean could make it show with just a pencil and some paper after all.

So yes, he knew he could do better — and Lavender, with her laughing eyes and kind heart, deserved his very best.


	8. hope (PetuniaRegulus)

For Amber's Valentine Day Drabble Collection: RegulusPetunia - Protect, and Hogwarts' 365 Prompts Challenge: Style - Past Tense, the Insane House Challenge: Character - Regulus Black, the Dragon Appreciation Month, the Writing Club: Character Appreciation - House: Slytherin, Book Club - Computer Jack: (word) strength, (word) pedantic, (action) making a discovery, the Sticker Challenge: Malfoy Manor - Write about a pureblood.

AU in which Petunia is a witch.

 _Word count:_ 398

* * *

 **hope (for a lighter day)**

Petunia stood a little way away from the rest of the Order, and for some reason, Regulus' feet took him to her. Maybe it was because they were the only two Slytherins around — it was easy to see that not everyone felt like welcoming them in their midst.

"You're sure you're ready for this?"

Petunia tossed back her hair over a shoulder, sending him a truly frigid glare. It was a pedantic look worthy of any pureblood's, and once again, Regulus found himself wondering how he could ever have believed blood could make him better, when what truly mattered were clearly his skills and the strength of his magic.

"Are you?" she retorted, arching an eyebrow at him gracefully.

Regulus eyed the crowd again. There were so few of them that he felt dread start to pool in his stomach. How could they be enough, when the Dark Lord they were facing had so much more at his disposal?

"This is a bad idea," he whispered back.

"Indubitably," she replied dryly. "But since when has that ever been a reason not to do something?"

Regulus found himself grudgingly smiling at that. "Careful," he replied, "or I'm going to start thinking you've spent too much time hanging around Gryffindors."

"An unfortunate consequence of having one for a sibling," she said. "I'm sure you know what that's like."

"Touché," Regulus replied, a smile playing on his lips.

Behind them, the call rang out for everyone to start Apparating, and Petunia's harsh feature softened inexplicably. "We'll be fine," she said. "You stick with me, I'll protect you."

Had it been anyone else, Regulus would have been offended. But not only was Petunia his friend, but she also had the best shield charm Regulus had ever seen anyone cast.

"Thanks," he replied. And then, he added, the words sticking to his throat a little. "Same to you."

Petunia nodded, a fire now burning in her eyes as she walked decisively toward the Apparition point.

There was something almost pretty about her like this. Determination looked good on her.

 _Oh_ , he thought suddenly, the thought crystallizing in his mind. _So that's what this is._

"Well, are you coming or not?"

Petunia's voice dragged him out of his revelation, and Regulus hurried after her, heart lighter than it had felt in a long time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."


	9. Mistletoe (ArthurMolly)

Written for Hogwarts' Yule Ball: Kissing Your Date - Write about getting caught under mistletoe, the Insane House Challenge: Pairing - Molly/Arthur, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Location - The Burrow, the Fanfic Resolution Challenge: Write a cliche plot, the Dragon Appreciation Month, the Weekly Tea Challenge: Gingerbread - Write about a fic set at Christmas, the Writing Club - Showtime: Finale - (dialogue) "That's enough.".

 _Word count:_ 466

* * *

 **Mistletoe**

Christmases at the Burrow were always kind of chaotic, but Molly wouldn't have them any other way.

The house always felt too empty and too quiet without the kids anyway. She couldn't believe she had even managed to get used to the twins' constant explosions, a fact that Arthur took a great deal of pleasure in teasing her with.

That didn't mean that she didn't find it exhausting to have everyone back for the holidays — all the kids, plus Harry, because there was no way she'd let that boy spend the holidays alone in that dreary castle.

But still, Molly allowed herself to get caught up in the warmth of family, in knowing that everyone she loved was right there, living under their roof.

Maybe that was why she didn't see the mistletoe coming until it was too late.

It was only a tiny spring, misshapen in the way all of George's conjured things were. The color wasn't quite right either, the green not sharp enough to feel real. It made her smile.

Arthur, standing right beside her, rolled his eyes, a fond smile painted on his lips. "Glad to see you find this situation amusing, dear."

Molly rolled her eyes right back and twisted her head until she was glaring at their children, who were staring at them sheepishly, sitting there in silence.

"That's enough, boys," she said sternly. "Take the spell off."

Fred laughed back nervously. "Ah, well, you see, mother, the problem is that -"

"- we can't officially cast magic out of school yet, so we can't un-charm these," George continued just as sheepishly.

"But the good news is, you can get out with just a kiss!" Fred finished cheerfully, before paling drastically as he realized what that meant.

Molly chuckled, sending one last glare her children's way before turning back to her husband.

Arthur looked at her with soft eyes, his right hand coming to cup her cheek. Molly hummed gently.

"This brings back memories, doesn't it?" he said with a half-smile.

"I don't remember the last sprig of mistletoe we stood under being charmed to keep us trapped there," she retorted playfully.

Arthur shrugged. "That would have been redundant."

Molly's lips stretched into a grin and she leaned forward.

It was amazing, really. Even after all the years they'd spent married, kissing Arthur still made her feel like a lovesick teenager — her heart started racing and her palms sweat, and she wanted it to go on forever.

She felt more than she saw the spell come down, and she laced her arms around Arthur's shoulders. Behind them, someone — probably one of the twins, or perhaps Ron, squeaked loudly.

Molly smirked, and kept on kissing her husband.

That'd teach them to try to get one over their parents.


	10. We Are Young (BillFleur)

Written for Amber's Valentine Drabble Collection - BillFleur, mesmerizing, and Hogwarts' 365 Prompts Challenge: Location - The Hospital Wing, the Fanfic Resolution Challenge: Write something really cheesy and fluffy, the Insane House Challenge: Pairing - Bill/Fleur, the Dragon Appreciation Month, the Bath Bomb Appreciation Challenge: Girl Power - Write about a powerful female and the Weekly Tea Challenge: Deliciously Dreamy - Write about a character who would be considered 'deliciously dreamy'.

 _Word count:_ 694

 **We Are Young**

The first thing Bill said when his parents and siblings left was to turn to his fiancé and say, "Did you really just tell my mother that you were pretty enough for the both of us?"

Fleur sniffled, half-haughty, half-amused. "Well, it's true, isn't it?" She tossed back her long blonde hair over her shoulders, the movement so mesmerizing Bill lost track of his thoughts for an instant.

"It is," he admitted, huffing out a laugh that swiftly turned into a hiss of pain as it pulled at his wounds.

Fleur's face immediately grew concerned and she leaned even closer, her pale hands hovering just inches above his skin. She wasn't touching him, but somehow Bill could feel her presence anyway, easing his pain. His eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Merlin, I love you," he whispered.

"Mmh, I know," she replied, and Bill didn't have to open his eyes to know she was smirking at him now — and yet he did it anyway, because he would never get tired of looking at her.

"Seriously, if we weren't already engaged, I'd ask you to marry me again," he added, propping himself up on his elbows and shifting back until he was sitting in his bed.

"And I'd say yes again," Fleur replied, her eyes soft around the edges. She paused for a moment, humming softly. "I think your mother might like me better now," she said, her lilting French accent more obvious as he tone grew teasing.

Bill's lips stretched into a wide grin before he could stop them, and he hissed in pain again. "I told you she would," he said, pushing past the pain and taking Fleur's hand in his. He pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles and let their joined hands fall back on his lap.

"You did," she admitted. "I have to admit… I didn't think you would be right — but I'm glad you were."

"She just needed a little time, that's all. My mother's always had trouble letting us go," Bill said, fondly rolling his eyes at the thought.

"You don't say," Fleur replied dryly.

For the third time, Bill fought back a wince as his amusement at her words pulled at the wounds on his face. "Hey, don't worry," he said softly when he noticed how Fleur's eyes darkened. "I'll be fine, you'll see."

Her hold on his hands tightened. "I know. I know you will," she said with a sigh. "I just… You really scared me."

"I'm sorry," Bill replied. "I didn't mean to do that. But I couldn't just do nothing."

"Of course you couldn't," Fleur said, rolling her eyes at him violently. "And I would never ask you to. You know that if I could have, I'd have been there with you. Attacking a school," she huffed with a sneer. "What _bastards!_ " she said it with the French intonation and her eyes blazed with anger.

Had she been there during the attack, Bill had no doubt they'd have been down a few more Death Eaters.

Even so, he was stupidly glad she hadn't been there — that she'd been safe. Just the thought of her being in harm's way, dodging curses and hexes like he had made his blood run cold in his veins.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, realizing belatedly that this must be what Fleur had felt for him — worse, even, because she _knew_ he had been injured. "I'll try not to worry you so much next time."

"You'd better," she replied, raising her head almost defensively. She leaned in and pressed a feather-soft kiss at the top of his nose.

Bill stared at her disbelievingly and Fleur stared back, batting her eyelashes innocently.

"What? You're hurt, Bill — I wouldn't want to make your condition worse, you know," she said. "Besides," she added, lips stretching into a mischievous grin, "think of this as an incentive to follow up on that promise."

Bill chuckled. "Oh, it's like that then?"

"It's like that," Fleur confirmed, and the teasing glint in her eyes made Bill's heart swell with love.

Merlin, he couldn't wait until they were married.


	11. every heart an island (BlaiseGinny)

Written for Hogwarts' Love In Motion Event: BlaiseGinny, the Art&Crafts Assignment: Task #2, Crocheting: Write about someone enjoying a warm cardigan, jumper or blanket, the Writing Club: Jasmin - Write about a pure blood who wants to marry for love, not duty, Lyric Alley: When no one's out, Liza's Love: Between the Sheets - Write about being cuddled under the covers, Serpent Day: Arabian cobra - (character) Blaise Zabini, the Insane House Challenge: Action - Snuggling, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Emotion - Love, the Scavenger Hunt: Write a Fluffy Fic.

 _Word count;_ 435

* * *

 **every heart an island**

"Stay."

Blaise's voice, low and heavy with sleep, caused something in Ginny's chest to tighten.

Not trusting words with the trembling feelings blooming in her lungs and stealing her breath away, she turned around until they were lying face to face, cocooned in the deep blue blankets the Room of Requirements had provided for them.

 _I want somewhere safe, just for one night._ She had asked, the way she always did.

And like always, the Room had given them this room — had given them this bed. This safe place, hidden from the world, where they could just be _them_ and forget they were at war outside these walls.

"I wish I could," she whispered back, her breath dancing across his lips. They were so close Ginny could count his eyelashes if she wanted to, but instead, she leaned in and closed the space between them.

Blaise's lips were soft and pliant against hers — but then again they always were — and Ginny allowed herself to get lost in that feeling for an instant she wished could turn into an eternity.

Soon (always too soon), she drew back.

Blaise's eyes, dark with desire, pleaded with her. His arms tightened around her — not so much so that she couldn't break his hold if she wanted to (he knew how she felt about being caged), but enough that she could feel how much he wanted her to stay.

It always stole her breath a little, how much he wanted her to stay.

"Five minutes," Blaise offered. It was a gift. One he gave her every time they were together — _time_ , the only thing they didn't have.

"Five minutes," she agreed, and in a corner of her mind she started the countdown.

They laid there as the seconds ran out, their bodies intertwined and all the words they would never say hanging in the air between them.

It was so peaceful there, under these covers with her lover. So warm and kind and _gentle_ — everything the outside world wasn't.

 _I love you_. The words burst in her mouth, bittersweet, and Ginny swallowed them back and nested them in her heart, where they belonged.

She traced them on Blaise's hip instead, slowly, until Blaise's control snapped and he pulled her into a heated, hurried kiss that Ginny moaned into.

But eventually — finally — their time ended. Their _five minutes_ ended, and so Ginny left. Maybe one day, she thought, half-dream half-wish, maybe one day leaving wouldn't make her feel like her heart was bleeding.

Maybe one day leaving Blaise's arms wouldn't feel like dying.


	12. All I Need

Written for Hogwarts' Quilting Appreciation Day: Scorily, the Jewel Challenge: Emerald Ring - Write about a gift, the Coffee Awareness Challenge: Americano - Write a story set in America, the Crafty Cocktail Corner: Ice Cream - (time) evening, the Writing Club: Character Appreciation - only child, Lyric Alley: do you feel the same when I'm away from you, Liza's Love: Guitar Villain - Write a Rockstar!AU.

Also for the Astronomy Assignment: Task 2 - Write a musician!AU, the Insane House Challenge: Title - All I Need, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Genre - Romance.

 _Word count:_ 632

* * *

 _ **All I Need**_

Scorpius wiped his forehead, scowling as it only spread his sweat on his hand. His concert had been over for nearly half an hour now, but he was still overheated and out of breath.

He was happy, of course he was — as expected, New York had been damn near perfect: the fans had been on fire and Scorpius himself had given his all to his performance — but he couldn't help but wish Lily had been there with him.

But no. His girlfriend hadn't been able to make it — her job was equally as important as his, and he loved how invested she was in it, but Scorpius also wished their schedules weren't so conflicting. Even when they were on the same continent, sometimes they had a hard time trying to find a moment for themselves, but when Scorpius went on tour and they suddenly had to factor in time zones?

Suddenly, even a Skype call became a nightmare to organize.

Like tonight. It was almost midnight now, and thanks to his concert, he had missed Lily's call by several hours. Not that she _had_ called, since she knew about the concert, but he had missed the time she would have usually called at.

There was a knock on the door and Scorpius let out a groan, signaling at whoever it was to enter.

Not that he didn't know _who_ it was. After all, there really was only one person who'd come see him to his lodge after a concert — well, _two_ rather, but the other one was still on the other side of the ocean.

"Mooning after my sister again, I see," Albus Potter, Scorpius' manager and, coincidentally, his girlfriend's brother, said teasingly.

Scorpius glared at him. "I don't 'moon'." He scowled as Albus only chuckled.

"No, of course not," Albus replied, a smile playing on his lips. He coughed once, sobering up. "Anyway, there's someone here to see you."

Scorpius sat up. "Wait, I told you I didn't want to see the fans to… night… "His voice trailed off as his eyes fell upon a familiar head of red hair.

"Lily?"

Scorpius couldn't believe his eyes, and yet here she was.

Albus chuckled again. "Happy birthday, Scorpius. I got you a present."

Lily, not missing a beat, crushed his feet beneath her heels, smiling at him sunnily. "Albus, dearest brother, I think it's time for you to leave now," she said, her eyes fixated on Scorpius.

Grumbling about treacherous little sisters and terrible friends, Albus obeyed.

Scorpius didn't notice though. He barely registered he had stood up too, or crossed the room, until he found himself reaching out to cup Lily's cheek in his hand, laying a soft kiss on her lips.

Lily sighed into the kiss and melted into his arms, and Scorpius never wanted this moment to end.

Alas, they had to breathe at some point, and after hours of standing up while singing, Scorpius' legs felt ready to fall off, so they had to separate.

He stared at her in wonder. "Don't take this the wrong way, but… How are you here?"

Lily laughed, her emerald eyes twinkling fondly. "I took the day off, and Al flew me in for the weekend. He said you'd been moodier than usual, and that you still had a month and half of tour, but if things kept going on as they were one of you would strangle the other long before then. So he asked for my help."

Scorpius arched an eyebrow. "Did your brother just pimp you out to me so I'd be in a better mood?"

Lily smirked. "Are you complaining?"

He leaned in to kiss her again, heart soaring in his chest. "Absolutely not," he whispered against her lips.

 _Now_ , this day was perfect.


	13. Crash and Fall (FredAngelina)

Written for Hogwarts' Quilting Day Appreciation: FredAngelina, the Crafty Coktail Corner: Coconut - (AU) deserted island, (dialogue) "I thought it was going to be a sandy beach and a palm tree, but it's actually just a big mossy rock.", Caffeine Awareness: Iced Coffee - Write a story set in summer, the Jewel Challenge: Amber Necklace - Write about being out in the sun, the Writing Club: Disney Challenge - an accident at sea: write about a disaster caused by the weather, Liza's Loves: Horrificator - Write about being trapped.

Also for the Gardening Assignment: Task 4 - Write about someone's day being affected by the weather, the Insane House Challenge: Character - Fred Weasley, the 365 Prompts Challenge: AU - Lost!AU.

 _Word count:_ 748

* * *

 _ **Crash and Fall**_

"Well," Fred said as he stared at the smoking remains of their plane, "I think we're stranded here."

Angelina, who, like Fred, had miraculously escaped the crash with only bumps and bruises — the same couldn't be said about their pilot, who was now… somewhere in the Pacific Ocean (it was hard to feel charitable toward the man who had flown them straight into a storm and then abandoned them by jumping out as soon as things got rough) — glared at the beach like it had personally offended her.

There was, of course, absolutely no sign of the terrible storm that had blown them of course. Instead, the sun was shining, and Fred could already feel his skin start to burn and blister.

"Maybe we should try to find some shelter," he said, at the same time as Angelina went, "I think we should go find some food."

They looked at each other. "Shelter first, then food," Angelina said, nodding.

They started walking in the direction of the vegetation. It didn't take them long to reach it — Fred had only referred to their impromptu landing zone as a 'beach' because calling it 'a very small stretch of sand' was depressing, even if it was more accurate.

The forest part of the island was warm and humid, but at least there was some shade, and Angelina and Fred breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief.

And suddenly, they started laughing.

"You know," Angelina said dryly, "somehow this wasn't the honeymoon I had in mind."

"I don't know," Fred replied, mood lifted by the sudden change in the atmosphere, "we do have the sunny island and the isolation from our meddling friends…"

Angelina snorted. "Right. Because being stranded on a deserted island is _so_ romantic."

"It could be worse," Fred replied. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed something — an odd rock formation — and he started to move toward it. Triumphantly, he added, "We could have no shelter," as they stopped in front of a cave.

It was small, sure — probably barely large enough to fit the two of them — but at least it would protect them from the elements somewhat."

"Well, color me impressed, Weasley," Angelina said with a low whistle. She pecked his lips quickly. "We should try to find some water now though. And food."

And so they went back into the forest.

"You know, I thought it was going to be a sandy beach and a palm tree, but it's actually just a big mossy rock," Angelina noted after a while.

"What?" Fred asked, slightly out of breath as they climbed to higher ground. "Mossy rocks aren't your preferred honeymoon location?"

Angelina poked at the stuff with her boot, making a face as a centipede crawled out from underneath it. "Not really, no."

Fred was about to reply when Angelina paused, straining his ears. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"The _grrll_ sound," she replied, gesturing with her hands vaguely as she rolled the rs in her mouth.

Fred stared at her like she'd gone mad.

This was a frequent occurrence in their relationship — Fred sometimes still wasn't sure _why_ she had agreed to marry him — but as it usually happened the other way around, it threw him a little.

Angelina grabbed his hands and pulled him to where she was standing. "Here," she said, "listen."

"I —"

" _Listen_ ," she repeated with a hissing sound, and Fred wisely shut up and listened.

… And suddenly, he could hear it. His face split into a grin. "Is that water?" He felt like a child again, back in his parents' garden, pretending to be explorers with his twin.

Angelina shrugged, though she was grinning too. "I think so. Should we go check?"

Fred took her hand in his. "Have you ever known me to say no to that question?"

Angelina laughed. "No."

"Well, then you have your answer," he said, winking.

(They did find water.

And also people.

Lots of very happy, very _naked_ people, who screamed when they saw them.

Apparently, they'd stumbled upon a nudist camp, and their 'deserted island' wasn't so deserted after all.

After the initial shock, it was kind of funny.

But not more so than the face Fred made when Angelina told her he'd have to tell his family about this.

"George can never know," he'd breathed, and Angelina had laughed so hard she had tripped into the water.)


	14. I want, I want, I want

Written for Hogwarts' Quilting Appreciation Day Event: RonLavender, the Crafty Cocktail Corner: Grenadine - (item) book, (pairing) RonLavender, the Writing Club: Character Appreciation - House: Gryffindor, Showtime: I Move On - Write about being fearless, Count Your Buttons: Ron Weasley, Lyric Alley: Feel the rush way up here, A Year in Entertainment: Movie - Jumanji: (object) a board game, the Insane House Challenge: Location - Gryffindor Common Room, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Quote - "You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.".

 _Word count:_ 312

* * *

 _ **I want, I want, I want**_

Ron made her feel fearless, like nothing could ever go wrong.

When she looked at him, she instantly felt like smiling. He was nice to her — didn't mock her for loving pink and makeup, and even if he didn't understand why she loved Divination so much, he didn't make her feel _lesser_ for it.

Her mother had always told her that if she found a boy who was nice and kind, she had to go for him.

"Don't be like me," she had said, softly brushing her daughter's hair a Lavender read ahead in her Divination book. "Find someone who's nice to you," she'd said.

(Lavender's father was already long dead by then, but some scars lingered beyond death, it seemed.)

Ron taught her chess.

She knew how to play already, of course, but she pretended she didn't, just so he'd put his hand on hers and help her with the pieces.

Sometimes, he looked at her oddly, like he was wondering how she'd gone six years at Hogwarts without ever learning to play chess, and she'd think he was onto her.

But a few kisses later and he forgot all about those doubts as Lavender swallowed back the guilt that rose, sour, in her stomach.

She thought about him at nights and Parvati teased her about moaning his name in her sleep — she always blushed as she remembered the ghost of his hands on her skin, always so soft and warm in her dreams and so different from their callused reality.

She thought about him during the day too, and her teachers scolded her for her wandering mind. She caught herself once as she was about to hand in an essay where she had doodled his name next to hers, and she stared at it for a while.

Their names looked good together, she thought, and she _wanted_.


	15. breathe, if it's all (DeanPansy)

Written for Hogwarts' Quilting Appreciation Day Event: DeanPansy, the Writing Club: Character Appreciation - (object) Marauder's Map, Showtime - Class: (quote) "Ain't no justice in the world and there ain't nothing you can do about it.", Count Your Buttons: Pansy Parkinson, the Jewel Challenge: Ruby Necklace - write about a Gryffindor, the Insane House Challenge: Dialogue - "When's the last time you saw her?", the 365 Prompts Challenge: Quote - "A friend is one that knows you as you are , understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.".

 _Word count:_ 544

* * *

 _ **breathe, if it's all you can do**_

It's not like Dean means for them to become… _something_.

In fact, he would have _loved_ for his path never to cross Pansy Parkinson's again.

 _(Liar.)_

He remembers the way she had tried to give Harry up to Voldemort, when he was the one trying to protect them by killing that monster.

She would have laughed, he knows, had he been caught by the Snatchers or the Carrows or the Death Eaters (had there even been a difference there in the end?).

One day, she might even have been _them_.

But this is not that time anymore, and Dean isn't running.

He's back at Hogwarts, taking his seventh year a year late, and somehow Parkinson is too.

 _(Turns out the Carrows didn't do so great a job teaching their students anything but torture and how to have scarier nightmares.)_

But one day, he's eating breakfast and pushing his eggs around his plate idly _(he had a nightmare last night, and it still lingers in his mind — he'll be sick if he eats, but Seamus will worry if he doesn't)_ when his eyes fall on the Slytherin table — quiet, so very quiet — and just… linger there.

"When's the last time you saw her?" he finds himself asking.

"Her?" Seamus asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Parkinson," Dean replies.

"I don't know," Seamus says. He shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"I — No, not really," Dean replies, unable to put words on the way it matters to him. "I just wondered, I guess."

 _(It matters because his stomach roils as he thinks about Pansy, and it's not because of the food._

 _It's because he's seen her every day but this one even though he hadn't noticed he'd been paying attention, and she'd been growing more and more… despondent. Ghost-like, like she was dead already._

 _She had used to have a sharp tongue, Dean remembers that. He remembers her laughing as she cut down people, thinking herself better than them._

 _And yet, he remembers he just standing there as students jeered at her this year, and that feels wrong._

 _It feels very wrong.)_

He leaves the table and asks Ginny to borrow the Marauders' Map. She lends it to him with a worried frown and he laughs it off.

"I just want to check something," he says, and Ginny lets him go without a word.

He finds Pansy in Myrtle's bathroom.

 _Nobody comes here_ , his mind whispers. His steps echo as he walks in.

Her eyes are red — she's been crying — and there's a knife pressed to her skin.

And blood. So much blood, a brilliant red he never wanted to see again.

His wand is in his hand before he remembers pulling it out, the spell falling from his lips like second nature.

The wounds close, but it's slow.

Too slow?

Merlin, he hopes not.

 _("You saved me." she tells him, voice dead as he sits by her bed in the Infirmary. but despite this, there's a spark of interest in her eyes, and it makes his stomach flutter. "Why?"_

" _I don't know," Dean confesses. "I really don't."_

 _Pansy hums softly but doesn't look away from him, and something starts there._

 _Something starts there.)_


	16. more than expected (HermionePercy)

Written for Hogwarts' Quilting Appreciation Day Event: PercyHermione, the Jewel Challenge: Nuumite Bracelet - Write about someone providing protection, the Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Black Coffee - Write about a bitter person, the Insane House Event: Location - The Burrow, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Title - More Than Expected, the Crafty Cocktail Corner: Ice - (word) frozen.

 _Word count:_ 378

* * *

 _ **more than expected**_

Hermione hadn't realized that silence could be so loud before, but it certainly felt deafening now. Her heart pounded in her chest and she wanted to run away and hide, but she couldn't leave _now_.

The Weasleys were her friends. Ron and Ginny were her friends — even the twins, annoying and exasperatingly immature as they were, were her friends.

Even Percy, who had answered all of the eager questions a young first year Gryffindor had had without flinching, once upon a time — and Hermione had had a lot of questions.

So yes, she loved the Weasleys.

And yet… Now, spending the summer with them and seeing how they treated Percy — like he didn't belong, like it was wrong for him to want to be clever or follow the rules… It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Kids had treated her like this before Hogwarts. They had mocked her teeth and her hair, but nothing more than the way she was 'too clever'.

How was it something to be praised in her, she wondered as she stared down the boys who had thought it _fun_ to hide Percy's report — something he had to do for his _actual job_ — and yet something to be mocked in him?

"Aw, come on, it was all in good fun," Fred tried to joke. "Percy knows we're just joking, don't you, Perce?"

By her side, Percy stays silent, and it hurts her heart to see how clearly he thinks defending himself would be useless.

Hermione just kept glaring. "That wasn't _fun_ ," she replied, borrowing Professor McGonagall's harshest glare and strictest tone. "That was _bullying_. You," she said, her eyes finding each and every Weasley who had laughed at this (all of her friends), "are all bullies."

And then she left, Percy on her heels.

("You didn't have to do that," he told her later, voice soft. "I could handle it."

Hermione knew this — but perhaps she'd spent too long hanging around Harry and some of his selflessness had rubbed off on her, because she replied, "I know. But you don't have to."

Percy's eyes shone with something soft too then as he nodded, and Hermione's heart started to beat just a little faster.)


	17. burn down (NevilleDaphne)

Written for Hogwarts' Quilting Appreciation Day: NevilleDaphne, the Crafty Cocktail Corner: Steak - (trope) marriage law, (word) rare, the Writing Club: Lyric Alley - it's the price we pay when it comes to love, the Insane House Challenge: Trope - Marriage Law, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Trope - Marriage Law.

 _Word count:_ 539

* * *

 _ **burn down what you can't stand**_

The envelope is beautiful, a rare cream color. It is soft in her hands, and Daphne _knows_.

She looks at her parents, who stare at her with sad eyes, and at her little sister, who's suddenly stopped talking and looks heartbroken.

They won't do anything to stop this.

There isn't anything they can do to stop this.

(Still, a part of her had hoped that they'd try. That _someone_ would try.)

The seal breaks easily in her fingers and she slides the letter out slowly.

She cuts herself on the paper but doesn't flinch as she reads the short missive.

There is a name there, and a deadline.

 _Neville Longbottom_ ,

the name reads.

 _August 23rd,_

the date reads. Five weeks away.

It could be worse, she thinks as she lets her sister plucks the letter from her numb fingers.

It could be worse.

.

Daphne meets her future husband at the Leaky Cauldron two days after she got the letter.

He's already there when she arrives, fingers drumming on the table as he waits for her. When he sees her, he doesn't smile, but his fingers still and something in his eyes… softens.

They stare at each other in silence for what feels like forever until Daphne snorts, breaking the silence.

"I take it you don't want to be there any more than I do," she says, and she almost smiles at the way Longbottom gapes.

"Is that a trick question?" he asks her, his eyes cautious.

 _Good_ , Daphne thinks, _he's not an idiot_.

"No," she replies. "It's not. But we shouldn't talk about this here."

He studies her now, and it's different from before. Sharper.

She lets him, hands on her lap to hide the way they shake. She arches an eyebrow. "So?"

Longbottom nods once, tersely, as he gives her an awkward smile. "You're right," he says. "We shouldn't talk about this here."

"Where then?"

He scribbles something on a piece of paper and slides it toward her. "Meet me there tomorrow," he says, and the address is for Hogsmeade, followed by a time.

Daphne nods, and departs.

.

The next day, he Apparates her back to a place full of Gryffindors.

The youngest Weasley bounces up to her with a cheerful smile as she asks, "So, you're Neville's wife-to-be, then?"

Daphne stares back at her icily. "I don't recall him asking me anything of the sort. So no," she says, and the Weasley grins.

"You'll fit right in," she says, before winking at Neville.

She hears him sigh beside her. "I'm sorry about Ginny," he says in a whisper. "She's a bit… forceful, sometimes."

Daphne snorts. "Clearly, you haven't met my sister."

Neville looks almost embarrassed as he says, "Actually, I have."

And there is a story there, but when it comes to Astoria, Daphne's learned it's better not to ask, so she only hums and changes the subject.

"What's this all for, anyway?"

Neville looks around the room proudly. "We're gathering everyone who doesn't agree with this stupid law," he says.

"And then?" Daphne asks, because that can't be all.

Neville's grin turns fierce. "And then we'll tear it down."

And Daphne thinks back to the family who hadn't even tried, and she smiles back.


	18. before dawn (Hinny)

Written for Hogwarts' Potion Assignment: Task 2 - Standard Ingredient: Write a canon pairing.

For the Writing Club: Character Appreciation - 9: (Character) Ginny, Showtime - 44: Best of Wives and Best of Women - (dialogue) "It's still dark outside.", Count Your Buttons - W3: Hungry, Lyric Alley - 4: Then you walked in and my heart went "Boom!", Sophie's Shelf: Vault 69 - (restriction) Only one male character, Bex's Biscuit Barrel: Cookie - [word] Shooting, [Character] Ginny Weasley, [Emotion] Amused, [Dialogue] "You'll never make it.".

The Seasonal Prompts Challenges: Days of the Year - June 19 2018 - National Kissing Day: Write about someone being kissed, Gryffindor Themed Prompts: (character) Ginny Weasley, (trait) confident, Summer Astronomy Prompts: August 17 2018 - Venus at Greatest Eastern Elongation: (trait) Seductive.

Funfair - Eastern: Ferris Wheel - (dialogue) "Kiss me.", Northern: Kissing Booth: Ginny/Harry, Hamilton Mania, Act One: Falling in love - (genre) romance, Optional prompt: (dialogue) "I'm never gonna stop.", Insane House: Character - Harry Potter.

 _Word count:_ 670

* * *

 _ **before dawn (you heal my wounds)**_

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and Harry startled, sending some of the eggs he'd been whisking flying off in every direction.

He put down the whisk and sighed before turning around.

Ginny was smiling. "What are you doing up? It's still dark outside," she said sleepily.

Harry shrugged, looking away. "Couldn't sleep. But why are _you_ up?" he asked, unwilling to dwell on his demons now that Ginny was here.

"I woke up, and the bed was empty. I missed you." She yawned, and Harry chuckled. Ginny put her head on his shoulder and hugged him tighter, humming a little against his neck. "Kiss me," she said.

Harry felt his eyebrow rise in surprise, but he pressed a soft kiss on her hair. It tickled against his lips.

"Not like that," Ginny replied, stepping back just enough that she could look at him, giving him an amused eyeroll.

His eyes drifted down to her lips. "Oh, and how should I kiss you then?"

Ginny leaned in, staring straight into his eyes. Her breath brushed against his lips as she said, "Like this," before closing the space between them.

The kiss felt like it lasted forever and not long at all at the same time, but when their lips parted, Harry felt less on edge than he'd been since he'd woken up earlier, dark nightmares clinging to every shadow.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," he said. "You should go back to bed, you seem tired, and I know you have training today."

Ginny shook her head even as she bit back another yawn. "I'll be fine. Now, what are you making?"

"Just pancakes," Harry replied with a fond smile.

Ginny's eyes sparkled. "Chocolate chips?"

"If you'd like," Harry said, amused.

"I would," Ginny replied, mock-serious. She stepped forward, pressing her body against Harry's, her brown eyes shining with a mischievous light. "You know chocolate's my favorite." She snaked an arm behind his back and put a finger into the bowl before bringing it to her lips for a taste.

And instantly pulled it back with a disgusted face that made Harry laugh.

"Eww, what is that?"

"It's not ready," Harry explained, still chuckling. "These are really just the eggs — I still have to add everything else."

Ginny pouted. "Well, you could have warned me."

"That'll teach you to try to sample the goods before they're ready," Harry countered.

"You know I'm never gonna stop doing that, right? It's the best part about baking, 'sampling the goods'." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, causing Harry to laugh again. He loved her, but that move looked ridiculous on her — or anyone, really.

"Well, if you want to sample _these_ goods, you're going to have to wait a little bit longer, I'm afraid."

Ginny sighed dramatically, but she took a step back. "Fine." She rolled her shoulders. "Where do you want me?"

Harry frowned. "What?"

"Well, I'm awake now, and you're here. We're both here, so we might as well make the most of it and do this together, don't you think?"

Harry had to blink back the sudden moisture in his eyes as he answered through a tight throat, "Sure. Sounds good. But, hm, you know, I'm pretty sure you're better at this than I am — or so your mother keeps telling me."

"But _you_ like cooking," she countered.

"I like that you like it." Harry corrected her.

Ginny's face softened. "Come on, let's get started. "You'll never make it otherwise, I've always wanted to have pancakes at —" she took a look at the clock "— five am."

Harry snorted, shooting her an exasperated look. "Liar," he said fondly.

Ginny merely stuck out her tongue at him. "Come on," she repeated, bumping her hips against his. "Are we doing this or what?"

And Harry laughed, and let her chase the last of his remaining shadows.

They would come back, of course — they always did — but he trusted that they would also leave again, eventually.


	19. feel no more (Romione)

Written for Hogwarts' Funfair Events: Eastern - Ferris Wheel: (emotion) confused, Northern - Sophie's Ice Cream Stall: Caramel - Ron Weasley & Pistachio - Hermione Granger, the Insane House Challenge: Location - Chamber of Secrets.

Also for Writing Club: Character Appreciation - 21: (house) Gryffindor, Disney Challenge: C3 - The Prince: write about True Love's Kiss, Showtime: 2 - Aaron Burr, Sir: (emotion) nervous, Amber's Attic, Het 1 - Romione, Lyric Alley: 10 - and I got nervous, thinking "What's she gonna do?", Sophie's Shelf: Vault 68 - (restriction) only one female character, Emy's Emporium: Italy 2 - the beautiful architecture: (setting) Hogwarts.

And the Seasonal Challenge - Flowers: Cosmos - (title) feel no more (feel no less), Gryffindor Themed Prompts: (character) Ron Weasley, Fire Element: (word) blaze.

 _Word count:_ 663

* * *

 _ **feel no more (feel no less)**_

Ron knows the instant their lips touch. It's electric, almost, like a current that passes between them. He would spring back, but his mind only barely registers the surprise.

Hermione's lips are soft against his, and between with the adrenaline of what they've just done and the reminder of what they still have to do, he doesn't really have a lot of time to think about what this means until they finally break apart, gasping for air.

Hermione's cheeks are flushed and her chest is heaving, but Ron stares at her like she's every wonder in the world.

"You're — We're — H—How?" He stutters, still too lost for words to form a coherent sentence.

She doesn't look surprised — he's just learned that they're _soulmates_ and she doesn't look surprised. It feels like acid in his stomach.

"Did you know?"

She glances away, just for a moment, and he has his answer. He swallows and takes a step back. The air in the Chamber is damp and cold, but it is nothing compared to the ice that sizes his soul. "When did you know?"

"Ron…" Hermione pleads, looking back to the exit. "I swear, I'll explain later, but right now we need to leave — Harry needs us."

She's right. Of course, she's right. This is hardly the time or place for this discussion, but they're probably going to face a battle outside of this Chamber, and he _knows_ he can't go into it if his mind is distracted with these thoughts.

And if something happened to Hermione just after he had found her, and he never got his answers… He thinks he might die too.

"I need to know," he replies, not moving. His legs feel rooted into the stone floor, and he's not sure he _could_ move if he wanted to.

"I—" Hermione sighs, her eyes flickering between him and the door behind him. She bites her lower lip. Slowly, she rolls up her left sleeve.

Ron stands there, silent, as she waves her wand over the dark skin and an orange mark blooms on her skin.

It looks like like a bruise, if bruises came in orange. The mark is finger-shaped, but it looks… odd. Stretched, like her skin grew but the mark didn't.

He has a sinking feeling that he knows what this is, and Hermione confirms it a second later. "I got this in our first year," she explains, and she doesn't need to tell him that it happened after they touched.

He knows.

"All this time… All this time, you knew, and you never said anything?"

Hermione grimaces, but her eyes keep pleading with him. She reaches for him and grabs his hands, holding them gently between hers. "I wanted to have a _choice_ ," she says.

"I wanted to know that if anything happened between us, it would be because we wanted it too, not because of my mark or yours… whatever yours is."

"I knew when I kissed you," he states so quietly it's almost a whisper.

"I'm sorry," Hermione says gently. "I was eleven and stupid, and after that, it just became easier to keep the secret, but I should have told you." She looks up at him, her eyes blazing. "But I don't regret doing it."

Ron swallows. Hope makes his heart flutter. "You don't?"

Hermione shakes her head. "We worked it out, in the end, don't you see? Who knows if we'd have made this work if you'd known earlier?"

"Or we could have saved ourselves a lot of time," he counters, but most of the anger is gone from his voice. It feels almost like their most familiar banter, when she tells him he should have started on his essay earlier and he argues that he had been busy.

Hermione smiles, a little sad. "Maybe." She squeezes his hands. "But I liked how we happened."

Ron smiles back, and leans in again. Against her lips, he breathes, "I like it too."


	20. revolution (BlaiseDaphne)

Prompt: BlaiseDaphne, revolution.

Written for Hogwarts' Writing Club: Disney Challenge - C4: The Huntsman: Write about being forced to do something you don't want to do, Showtime: 41: It's Quiet Uptown - (action) holding hands, Amber's Attic: Het 7 - BlaiseDaphne, Count Your Buttons - AU 2: Revolution, Lo's Lowdown: Quote 1 - Revolutions spring not from accident, but from necessity, the Northern Funfair: Sophie's ice Cream Stall - Double Chocolate Brownie - Daphne Greengrass & Cinnamon - Blaise Zabini, Eastern Funfair: Penny Slot Machine - 12: Blaise Zabini, 63: (emotion) desperation, 73: (quote) "The caged bird sings of freedom."

 _Word count:_ 453

* * *

Daphne's little sister is clever and too kind for this world, and she's going to get caught if she keeps helping the Gryffindor's ridiculous resistance movement.

But Daphne also knows her sister, and she knows Astoria will never stop — not unless somebody stops her.

And Daphne knows what that would mean — the Carrows, bloodthirsty and evil, coming after her little sister. She can't have that.

So she goes to Blaise, because despite his faults — greatest of which is the way he cannot stop flirting with her — he is still her friend, and her best hope in this.

Of her housemates, he might be the only one who never truly declared for the Dark Lord. She trusts that if he won't help, he at least won't tell anyone else that she will.

It starts like this:

Daphne goes to him and says, "My sister is going to get herself killed. Will you help me?"

Blaise looks into her eyes, solemn in a way he so rarely is, and says, "Of course. What do you need me to do?"

And Daphne explains. Together, they cover for Astoria as she sneaks information to Dumbledore's Army — which apparently is their name, as stupid as it sounds.

And slowly, they get more people to join them. Tracey, at first, whose half-blood status counts against her in this new world, and then Millicent, who speaks with a burning conviction as she says she doesn't want this. That if she has to get to the top, she wants it to mean something.

And then some first years, who don't understand why the school they've heard so much about is so dark.

So they join her too, and they run interference — not just for Astoria anymore, but for those first years Gryffindors or Hufflepuff who don't know when to keep quiet or are at the wrong place at the wrong time. For the DA too, sometimes, even though they never know it — because they're Slytherins, and unlike them, they're good at being sneaky.

Because somewhere along the way, Daphne looked at the way things are and she realized it was wrong and that she had to do something too.

Or maybe it starts like this, in the end:

Potter comes back to the school and Pansy says they should hand him over, and McGonagall orders the Slytherins to go back to their dorms, like children being sent back to their rooms.

It starts like this:

Daphne steps forward, Blaise's hand in hers, and she looks her Transfiguration teacher in the eyes as she says, "No."

"No, this is our school, and our world, and we will fight for it too."


	21. one hour (MaryBenjy)

Written for Hogwarts' Gardening Assignment: Task 10 - Peony: Write about a happy marriage, the Garage Sale Competition: ring, the Writing Club: Disney Challenge C6: Uncle Albert - Write about somebody with an infectious laugh, Lyric Alley: I know that I deserve your love, Sophie's Shelf: 23. Mary/Benjy, Em's Emporium, 3: Sophy (The Crownless Queen): Write a marauder era fic, the August Auction: Slytherin, Insane House: Title - One Hour.

 _Word count:_ 614

* * *

 _ **one hour**_

Mary paused in front of the bathroom mirror, cotton in one hand and cleansing lotion in the other. It was a ritual Lily had introduced her too, back in Hogwarts, and Mary had gotten used to it. Now, she even liked it better than the wizarding way. Spells were faster, yes, but there was something soothing and relaxing about taking her time and doing it by hand.

But today, as she raised her hand, the light caught on her ring, and she paused, smiling.

She could remember Benjy's proposal like it was yesterday — a moment a peace and lightness in the middle of the war, a reminder that happiness still existed, that it was what they were fighting for.

He had proposed while she was half-concussed and bleeding from her scalp after a Battle with Death Eaters. They had both been scared they'd never seen each other again — she had thought the spell that hit her would kill her, and she had later learned that Benjy had gone half-mad upon seeing her go down, that he had thought she was dead — and she really shouldn't remember it as well as she did, but _she did_.

The ring was his mother's, passed down from her mother, and Benjy's grandfather had been the one to get it commissioned for his would-be wife. while it was simple, especially for a Mary loved it all the more for it.

It had a single white diamond, with a ruby shard on either side of it, and while it was simple, especially for a family like his, Mary loved it all the more for it.

Benjy had been adorably worried that Mary wouldn't like it for some reason, and he had offered to get her something newer, but Mary hadn't wanted him to.

She still didn't. This ring was proof that Benjy considered her part of his family, that he _wanted_ her to be part of his family.

What was she supposed to dislike about that?

She was still looking at the ring and reminiscing when Benjy stepped up behind her. He was trying to be sneaky — which was always hilarious, because for a Slytherin he was desperately terrible at it — and Mary started to laugh.

"You know," she said with a smile, "this would work a lot better for you if you didn't try to sneak up on me while I was standing in front of a mirror."

Benjy stilled, his face smoothing out into the very picture of innocence. Mary didn't trust nor believe it for an instant.

"I wasn't trying to sneak," Benjy denied. The way his lips kept twitching with repressed laughter — her fault, she knew, because her laugh was infectious — betrayed him.

Mary raised an eyebrow dubiously. "Right. Of course not." She turned around to face him, and sat up on the space beside the sink. Benjy stepped toward her and she laced her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He was still smiling as he kissed her. "Hey," he said when they parted. "I missed you today."

"Hey," Mary replied with a grin. "I missed you too. Give me ten more minutes?" She nodded toward the sink, where her products were still laid out. "I'll finish up here, and then you can come join me in the shower." She winked and Benjy laughed delightedly.

"Sounds like a plan," he said. He kissed her briefly, twice, and stepped back.

She watched him undress from the corner of her eye, before realizing she could just watch in the mirror.

He started the shower before her ten minutes were over — but that was fine. She was done too.


	22. love me tender (Jily)

Written for Hogwarts' Garage Sale Competition: crib, Lineage Study Assignment: Task 1: Write about an object that has been passed through at least three generations of a family, August Auction: (word) catastrophic, Insane House: Character - Lily Evans, the Writing Club: Cookie's Crafty Corner: Blanket Squares: Write about an object that has been passed down the generations, Lyric Alley 22: Reaching for the sun.

 _Word count:_ 579

* * *

 _ **love me tender**_

When James had said he'd take care of the crib, Lily had been anxious. She knew her husband, and while she loved him, she wasn't blind to his fault — an excited James was a dangerous James, because his 'great ideas' were as likely to end up being catastrophic as they were to actually be good.

But this was a crib — James' old crib, which apparently was some kind of Potter heirloom, passed down from generation to generation since time immemorial (James' words, not hers). She hadn't had the heart to refuse, and in fact, had been kind of looking forward to what a magical family crib might look like.

She hadn't expected this, though.

"What do you think?" James asked her, his grin almost blinding. He looked tired, and if he'd had to levitate this… monstrosity all the way up to Harry's nursery, she could see why.

"It's certainly… unique," she said.

James' face fell comically. "You don't like it."

Lily couldn't help but laugh. She put a hand on his arm and shook her head, biting her lips so she wouldn't laugh. "No, no, I don't _don't like it_ … It's just… Did your ancestors expect their kid to be some kind of escape artist?"

James pouted. " _No!_ " His looked back at the crib. Is thick wooden panels were gorgeous, yes, but those rich animated decorations didn't quite manage to hide how much like prison walls they looked.

He winced. "Maybe?" He tilted his head and winced again. "You know, I never saw it like that?"

Lily laughed again. "Maybe all your ancestors were just like you," she mused out loud, and then they shared a look of horror.

As if on cue, Harry took that moment to kick, and Lily put a hand on her stomach. "You better behave, Harry," she told him sternly.

James looked at her with fond exasperation. "Still insisting it's a boy?"

Lily stared back at him, arching an eyebrow. "I _know_ it's a boy." She smiled. "But the next one can be a girl."

James' eyes lit up at the notion — James had grown up as a single child, but he'd always wanted siblings. The Marauders were that for him, Lily knew, but he had confessed one night that he would have liked siblings to play with before Hogwarts.

Lily, who remembered Petunia, had agreed. Her childhood would probably have been very different without her sister, and she wanted that for their child — though she hoped that the war would be over then.

"I love you," James said, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"I love you too," Lily replied. "Even if your taste in cribs is… questionable."

James snorted. "You know, I think it might be so the kid can't use accidental magic to leave the crib in the middle of the night and wander off."

Lily blinked. "That's a thing? What am I saying, of course that's a thing. Of course we also have to worry about our kid wandering off at night, _you're_ his father."

James grinned sheepishly. "Well, not with that crib, we wouldn't, at least."

Lily looked back at the monstrosity with a new sense of appreciation. "You know," she said, "I think this is a _great_ crib."

James laughed as he pulled her to his side. "I can't wait for our kid to get there."

Lily smiled back and laid her head against his chest. Her hands fell to her stomach. "Me neither."


	23. they all die too young (NevilleDaphne)

Written for Hogwarts' Garage Sale Competition: coin, the Writing Club: Cookie's Crafty Corner: Purl Stitch: Write from the perspective of a Death Eater or someone on the wrong side of events, Lyric Alley 23: We are warriors, Ami's Audio Admirations: 11 - BBC — Write about a small part of a large organisation or group, Sophie's Shelf: 10. Neville/Daphne, Insane House: Word - Love - (Deep affection).

 _Word count:_ 388

* * *

 _ **they all die too young**_

"That's clever," Daphne says as she watches the surface of the coin change. It looks like a normal Galleon from afar, but Daphne knows better.

But she also knows better than to remark on it — Neville loves her, she doesn't doubt that, but she also knows that he doesn't trust her. Not really anyway. Not with everything.

She doesn't blame him, even if it hurts. She's not sure she wouldn't be doing the same thing in his place, or that she wouldn't betray him and his people if she had enough reasons.

She wouldn't want to, but in their world, _wants_ mean very little sometimes — they have since her side won the war.

Neville sits up in her bed, feet swinging over the side. He snatches the coin from its place on the bedside table, takes in the message as twists it between his fingers — once, twice, and then it's gone, tucked away somewhere, a Muggle trick he learned from someone long dead now.

"Yeah," he says, a note of sadness in his voice. "It really is — it's Hermione's work. She made these back in fifth year, when Harry created the DA. They're a great way to coordinate, or arrange meetings."

Daphne hums. She runs a hand down his arm slowly. There is a scar there — it hadn't been there two weeks ago, when she saw him last, and it makes her stomach twists to look at it. She forces herself to anyway — if she never sees him again, she wants to remember him as he was, scars and all.

"You have to go, don't you?"

She sees him swallow before he nods. "Yeah." He doesn't apologize — he'd used to, once, but they both know what he does is too important for apologies.

She sighs and trails her fingertips over his skin once more, bending down to press a soft kiss on his shoulder. She breathes him in, and lets him go.

"See you soon, then."

Neville's eyes are sad as he looks back at her, but he smiles nonetheless. "See you soon," he replies.

He kisses her forehead, and Daphne watches him leave.

The words she truly wants to say — _stay_ , _come back, be safe, please, oh merlin, please_ — die in her throat.


	24. oh happy days (JohnAmelia)

Written for Hogwarts' Games Development Assignment: Task 9 - Isabelle from Animal Crossing - Write about someone who works too hard and forgets to look after themselves.

Writing Club: Disney Challenge, Theme 2: Female Stereotypes - Write about a woman who doesn't prescribe to the stay at home female stereotype, Trope of the Month 10: Trait: Helpful, All Sorts of Space 7: Spaghettified by a black hole (actually really gross): (action) Eating, Liza's Loves 11: Mage Hand - Write about lending a helping hand, Angel's Archives Theme 1: Happiness.

 _Word count:_ 730

 **oh happy days**

"Happy birthday!"

Amelia blinks up blearily from her papers — the seventh form she's read in the past hour on the upheaval of the DMLE, because between Fudge and Scrimgeour the place is a complete mess, and that's without getting into the mess that is the rest of the Ministry — to find herself staring into a flame.

She springs herself back, hand falling to her wand, an _Aguamenti_ on the tip of her tongue before she realizes what the flame is attached to.

A slowly dancing candles, one of those cheap animated ones her niece used to be so fond of.

Her heart is slow to stop racing, and Amelia has to brace herself against her desk to keep herself from falling down.

Note to self: she's too old to sit for hours without food nor drink the way she had at twenty, back when she'd been a new employee eager to prove herself.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Amelia replies, immediately chastising herself for how short her tone had been. She rubs her temples and sighs, offering John an apologetic look.

Luckily, he doesn't look offended, just quietly amused — and concerned. He always looks concerned these days.

Amelia's heart seizes with fondness; "I'm fine," she repeats; kinder this time. "Really. I just…"

"Got lost into your work again?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

John's lips quirk up into a small grin. "I figured." He pushes the small cake and its dancing candle toward her. Her papers crinkle, and part of her wants to wince, but it's also nothing a quick wave of her wand can't fix.

"Just like I figured that you'd forgotten what today is."

Amelia's blood freezes in her veins. "I… What?" She can't think of anything urgent she has to remember — she's done with all important meetings for the week, thank Merlin, and the next anniversary she has to remember isn't for another couple of months.

John arches an eyebrow at her, then looks pointedly down at the mall cake.

Amelia follows his gaze and blinks.

"Oh," she says, suddenly recalling the 'Happy birthday' that had snapped her out of her earlier dazed state.

"Yes, 'oh'," John replies. "Happy birthday, please take a break before you keel over — I swear to you, those papers will still be there tomorrow."

"That's the problem," Amelia counters, but she's already pushing said papers away. John's right — she won't be able to help anyone if she collapses in her third official month in office — even if the irony of Mister Paperwork himself telling her to give it a rest is killing her.

She sighs. "I suppose a short break won't hurt." And that cake looks awfully good…

John smiles at her. "That's the spirit. Now, come on, there's a surprise party for you back at the DMLE."

Amelia can't help a snort as she stands up, dusting off her robes. "Are you supposed to tell me this?"

"Of course not," John replies, shrugging awkwardly like he wants to offer her his arm but doesn't dare try — he never really does when they're at the office, which Amelia appreciates. "But I know better than to try to spring any surprises on you. I still have the bruises."

Amelia winces at the reminder. "I am sorry about that," she replies, even though John's assured her time and time again that it wasn't her fault.

"War reflexes," he'd said, shrugging with a sad smile on his lips. "Gets everyone."

As expected, in the present, John waves her off with another half-smile. "You can still pretend to be surprised if you'd like. I won't tell."

Amelia's lips curl up into a smile. "Maybe I will," she says. She feels lighter suddenly, and twenty-years younger.

She grabs her cake and plucks the little candle. It ceases its dancing almost instantly, and Amelia wets her fingers and pinches the wick until the flame dies.

The cake is lemon and blackberries — her favorite.

On a whim, she does lace her arm through John's. He startles, sending her a questioning look.

Amelia just stares back and shrugs before nodding to the door. "Shall we?"

John's face breaks into a grin. "Of course. Let's."

(She does pretend to be surprised, but not too much.

It wouldn't do, after all, for the Minister of Magic to be caught so off guard by her employees.)


End file.
